Revenge Isn't Always Sweet
by Lizabeth S. Tucker
Summary: A simple security job turns dangerous.
1. Chapter 1

_Originally printed in _Dial 'S' for Steele, Simon, & Sleuths at Large #2 _in the mid to late 1980s_.

Revenge Isn't Always Sweet

By Lizabeth S Tucker

1.

"Reports today from the District Attorney's office confirmed that Roscoe Lee Thompson will be testifying against reputed kingpin of crime, Salvatore Lorenzo next week. Thompson is being held in maximum security, his whereabouts unknown. Neither Mr. Lorenzo nor his attorney could be reached for comments on this development." Mark McCormick threw the newspaper down onto the kitchen table, watching Judge Hardcastle beating the eggs beyond death. "Wasn't Lorenzo one of yours?"

"Yeah," Judge Milton C. Hardcastle, retired jurist and current headhunter of particularly vicious criminals, answered. "He managed to have the main witness against him killed, but the prosecution couldn't prove it, so he walked free. I hope Thompson is made of stronger stuff. Lorenzo was one of the worst. Loan-sharking, pimping, protection rackets, drugs, you name it, he was involved in it."

"You forgot murder, Judge."

"Murder was a hobby for him. He liked to kill people when he was younger. Now he's too old and too rich, and much too important for that sort of hobby. Lorenzo is on the boards of half the museums and charitable organizations in this city."

"You sound a little bitter, Hardcase."

"Maybe I am, kiddo. It's bad enough that this piece of garbage keeps from prison, but he's honored at celebrity roasts. All the best people find it amusing to call him a close friend. That bothers the hell out of me."

"Well, they've got him this time. I've been reading about this Thompson guy. Seems he was one of Lorenzo's most trusted lieutenants until the big boss decided he liked Thompson's lovely wife. Only she didn't want to play the game. Lorenzo raped her and she killed herself the same night. Thompson swore revenge, and this is it. He really loved his wife. I think Lorenzo is in big trouble this time. Supposedly, Thompson knows where all the bodies are hidden and plans to tell everybody and anybody who'll listen to him."

"Yeah, so I've heard." Hardcastle shrugged into his denim jacket. "I think these eggs are hopeless. Want to head to town for some breakfast?"

"Your treat?" Mark asked, already halfway to the door.

Hardcastle grimaced. "Yeah, since I managed them, I'll spring for breakfast."

"I should've known we'd go someplace disgustingly cheap if you were paying," Mark griped, trying to pour a cup of grease off of his eggs into his coffee saucer.

"I'm paying for this, kiddo. You want something fancier, you pay for it," Hardcastle retorted. "There's Frank now."

Mark sighed. "I should've known it was too good to be true. We've been without a case for a whole week now. I should've figured you were up to something. Mind letting me in on it?"

"Hiya, Mark, Milt." Lieutenant Frank Harper, another of the Judge's old friends on the police force, threw himself into the seat across from the Judge, grinning at the goop on Mark's plate. "Horrid stuff, isn't it? Only cops with iron stomachs eat here."

"Or ex-cops, and ex-judges we all know and, at this moment, don't love," Mark sniped. "What can we do for you, Frank, or should I ask?"

"Nothing big, I had assumed you already knew," Frank said, looking pointedly at the Judge.

"Okay, Hardcase, what are we jumping into this time?" Mark asked, pushing the plate of congealed eggs away from him.

"Remember the Thompson-Lorenzo thing you were talking about this morning?" Hardcastle asked cheerfully.

"Yeah?"

"Well, we're going to help with the security arrangements."

"Don't tell me we're gonna baby-sit this guy, Judge?"

"No, Mark, you're not. But we want the two of you to check out the house for weak spots," Frank replied.

"Why us? I mean, you've got lots of cops who thrive on that type of work. Other than being a friend of the Judge's, why are you coming to us?" Mark was waiting for Hardcastle to answer, but so far the Judge wasn't responding.

"The problem is the cops involved." Frank shrugged. "There are at least ten cops on Lorenzo's payroll that we suspect, probably more than that. We aren't sure who we can trust. I know I can trust you and Milt, that's why I want you to check the place out."

"No guarding, no danger, no undercover work?" Mark prodded.

"None. Nobody will be at the place while you're checking it out. Thompson has to testify for the first time this morning."

"Then why didn't you tell me about it, Judge?"

"I wanted you to decide on your own." Hardcastle finally entered the conversation. "Besides, I didn't think you'd believe me if I said we were going to do something for the cops that didn't involve you in some sort of danger."

Mark smiled evilly. "That's the truth." Laughing, he nodded. "Sure, sounds simple enough."

Lieutenant Harper stood back up, shaking his head at the uneaten breakfast. "Tell you what, Mark, when you guys get done, I'll buy you lunch."

"What's wrong, Judge?" Mark asked after the police lieutenant left. "You don't seem too happy about this?"

"Nothing, kid. It's probably indigestion." Hardcastle threw some bills onto the counter. "Let's go check this place out."

"Whoa, what's indigestion? Judge, are you okay?" Mark grabbed the Judge's arm as he stepped out of the small diner.

"Just a little stomach pain, that's all. The dinner we had last night must have been bad. I'll be fine, really." He pulled away, climbing into the cab of the truck.

Mark, after a moment's hesitation, got into the passenger side. "Let me drive."

"You don't know where we're going," Hardcastle snapped, then relented at the concerned look on McCormick's face. "I'm okay, hotshot, don't worry. We'll get this done, I'll go home and drop a couple of antacids, no problem."

With a worried frown, Mark waved them on. "Okay, let's do it. The sooner I get you home, the better I'll feel."


	2. Chapter 2

2.

The house was on the coast line, south of Los Angeles, in a secluded area that was accessible only by a narrow gravel road. Mark walked next to the truck while Hardcastle let the vehicle coast, checking for signs of other roads or pathways. They finally arrived at the house itself, high on a cliff overlooking a rough sea. There was a porch on the back of the house with large windows to view the sea.

"Not bad, Judge. I wouldn't mind having a little hideaway like this," Mark said, one eye on the house and the other on the Judge as he got out of the truck.

"Let's walk around the place, see where it's vulnerable," Hardcastle said.

"Yeah, sure."

"You head around that way, I'll go the other. We'll meet on the opposite side." Hardcastle strode off without waiting for a reply.

Mark didn't protest, well aware that too much concern would only bother Hardcastle. With one more anxious glance at the Judge, Mark started around the house on the seaside.

He had to admit the house was pretty secure. Unless the attacker was Spiderman, he would have a hard go getting up from the ocean. There was a twenty-foot drop from the porch to the next flat area. Mark had to hand onto the poles to get near the porch, but wasn't able to complete his half of the circle, backtracking to where the Judge was waiting.

"Well?" Hardcastle asked as soon as he arrived, somewhat out of breath.

"Pretty good place. With a few appropriately placed cops, I don't think they'll have any trouble guarding him."

"Same here. This side of the house has few windows. It was obviously built for the ocean's view, not that of the wild life that abounds around here." Hardcastle leaned against the trunk of a small palm tree, a bit pale.

"Judge? What is it?" When the older man didn't answer, Mark moved closer. "I think we'd better get back to town now. And you're going to see a doctor."

"I don't need a doctor, McCormick, I'm fine. Just a little heartburn, I'm telling you."

"Yeah, sure. So humor me, please?" Mark couldn't keep the fear from his voice, despite his best efforts.

McCormick took the Judge's arm, pulling him gently toward the truck. "And I'm doing the driving back, okay?"

"I don't suppose you'd let me drive anyway, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't."

"Are you happy? You made a complete fool out of us, dragging me to a doctor for a simple case of indigestioin." Hardcastle drove to the courthouse and their meeting with Lieutenant Harper while Mark tried to slide into the passenger door of the GMC.

"Well, how was I to know? You've never had heartburn before. And I ate the same food you did and it didn't hurt me any. I won't help you ever again, Judge, trust me. If I should make the mistake of thinking that you're in pain or hurting in any way, I'll mind my own business. Okay?"

"Fine." Hardcastle and McCormick rode on in silence, the Judge darting quick glances at Mark. "Thanks for the thought, kiddo. But next time, trust me."

Mark smiled sheepishly. "Okay, I'm sorry I overreacted a bit."

"A bit? You dragged me into the emergency room, yelling for a doctor at the top of your lungs, insisting that I be seen before the woman in labor and the guy with a knife wound, and you call that a bit?"

"Give me a break, Judge, I was a little worried." Trying to change the subject, Mark pointed at the crowd of reporters outside the courthouse entrance. "You call ahead, Judge?"

Hardcastle parked in the nearest No Parking space, earning a sharp look from McCormick. "Don't be stupid, this little reception is for your friend Lorenzo."

"Not my friend, Judge."

"Well, let's find Frank and give him our report." Hardcastle started up the steps outside the courthouse, Mark only a few steps behind him. As they neared the entranceway, Salvatore Lorenzo and his lawyers came outside. Hardcastle stopped to listen to them fielding questions from the press. Lorenzo looked up, saw Hardcastle and broke away from the crush, leaving his lawyers to handle the reporters.

"Good afternoon, Judge. Did you come to see me beat the rap today?"

"No, although I may come and watch you when it's time for the sentencing. I want to see the look on your face when the Judge puts you away for the rest of your miserable life."

Mark smiled, enjoying the look of pure hatred Lorenzo was directing at the Judge. Hardcastle was definitely getting under the hood's skin. "We should be able to sell tickets to that sideshow, Judge."

Lorenzo glanced at the smirking man. "Who's the mouth, Hardcase?"

"Mark McCormick, meet the man you've been reading about for the past few months. Lorenzo, he's been following your recent problems rather closely in the papers."

"Really? You shouldn't believe everything you read in the papers, boy, didn't anyone ever tell you that?" Lorenzo said, his lawyers urgently trying to make him leave. The reporters had moved loser to where the Judge, Mark and Lorenzo stood, the television cameras still rolling.

"Well, sir, I don't. They keep calling you an alleged criminal. I know that's not true. I've seen Hardcastle's files on you. You give criminals a bad name by your actions. You're worse than scum. I hope this Thompson character hangs you out to dry." Mark pushed past the questions shouted out by the reporters, and stalked into the courthouse hallway.

Hardcastle followed, a slight quirk of his mouth the only indication of his reaction to Mark's unexpected tirade.

Lorenzo's voice followed them in. "No one insults me like that! No one!"

"Kid, wait up." Hardcastle rushed to catch up with the irate McCormick. "What got into you back there?"

"I don't like a man who would rape a defenseless woman. And I didn't like they way he was talking to you. That piece of garbage thinks he's above the law."

Frank patted Mark on the back. "Pretty hot stuff, Mark. Better watch it, Lorenzo makes for a bad enemy. He won't like having that aired over and over again on the news."

"Hiya, Frank. Hah, he's gonna be too busy to think of me."

"How did your inspection tour go?" Harper asked.

"The place looks secure. Get about five men you can trust to guard the place and Thompon should make it to the trial without a scratch," Hardcastle reported.

"Appreciate it, Milt. You, too, Mark." Frank turned to leave.

"Hey, what about my lunch?" Mark called out.

"Uh, give me a raincheck, Mark. I promise I'll pay off. I'm not like the Judge here. When I lose, I always pay up." With a laught and a wave, Frank went back down the hall.

"I don't suppose you'd like to make up for that awful breakfast, would ya?" Mark asked with his most endearing smile.

"No," the Judge replied shortly.

"Figures. Okay, I'm starving. Let's go to Burger Barn, I'm buying."

Lorenzo moved away from the steps, his lawyers having successfully maneuvered the reporters away with some help from the local police. He signaled for his new second-in-command to come closer.

"Yes, boss?" The young man hovered at Lorenzo's elbow.

"Get Mike and the boys. I have a plan, a way to get those two and Thompson. And tell Mike that I'll need to speak with our contact at the movie studio."

"Sure, boss, but why?"

"None of your business. Right now all I need you to do is what I tell you. Go!"


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Mark finished mopping the kitchen floor, tearing his rubber gloves off with a jerk. He moved to the refrigerator with tiny steps around the edge of the newly shined floor. He reached in and pulled a beer out, backing to the table where the floor was already dry. The trip to the safe house and the lunch had thrown Mark's whole routine off. The sun was about to go down and he had just finished cleaning the main house. The yard would have to wait for another day. The though of eight hours of yardwork after scrubbing on his hands and knees all afternoon gave mark a severe case of the shakes and he tried to think of some way out. "Thompson's testifying tomorrow. Are we going to the trial?"

"I was thinking about it. You really want to go and watch a day of that stuff?" Hardcastle replied, sitting at the kitchen table cleaning his .45, Henry.

"Uh huh, it should be interesting to hear what Thompson has to say. It's been very hush-hush in the papers, at least that part of the case hasn't leaked." Mark pushed the gun-cleaning equipment to one side to make a space to put his beer.

"Okay. We'll have to leave early in the morning to get a seat. It's a popular case and Thompson is the first scheduled witness."

"No problem. We taking the Coyote or the truck?"

"I'll drive."

"Okay, the truck then. I guess I owe you that after this morning," Mark agreed. "Hey, I meant to ask you, what did Frank mean about your not paying up on bets? I know you cheat outrageously when we play one-on-one, but you always paid me when you lose."

"He's a pool shark, beats me every time. I know he's a pro," Hardcastle explained grumpily.

"No way. I could beat you at pool. You're lousy at it. Remember, I saw you playing Judge Franklin last month. The only reason you beat him was because he had a broken finger."

"Want to try a few racks now, hotshot?"

"You're on. But you'd better pay up. I'd hate to call in an enforcer on ya." Mark laughed.

Three hours later, Mark gave up. Hardcastle had taken him for fifty bucks on the new pool table. Mark considered himself good on the stick, but the Judge was obviously a hustler from way back. If Frank could beat him, then the Judge was right, Frank was a pro. Conceding defeat, Mark and Hardcastle settled down to watch the late night news. There was a few minutes recap of Mark saying his piece to Lorenzo outside the courthouse.

"I'm a star," Mark sighed, not pleased with the camera angles or the way his curly hair looked on screen.

"You're marked. Lorenzo isn't gonna like that. If he gets off, you'll have a visit from him."

"Then we've gotta hope he doesn't get off. I don't want that man looking to kill me."

Halfway through Johnny Carson's monologue, Hardcastle had to nudge Mark awake.

Blurry eyes gazed up at the Judge. "Wha?"

"Go to bed, kiddo. We've an early rising, remember?" Hardcastle helped pull him out of the chair, and pushed him toward the front door.

Stumbling off, Mark gave a wave and a sleepy smile. "Night, Judge."

"Night, McCormick."

Flinging the door to the gatehouse open, Mark didn't bother putting the lights on. He began to undress as he stepped in the door, kicking it closed behind him and collapsing on the couch, too tired to climb the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

The morning was overcast and very warm. Mark was nursing his orange juice, waiting for Hardcastle to finish dressing. After a quick argument, the Judge had decided to forego his usual t-shirt and denim shirt for something more somber, or at least more appropriate for the courtroom.

Finally, the Judge was finished and they started for the courthouse. The drive was pleasant, the rain falling in a gentle drizzle. Hardcastle drove with the wipers whisking softly, the sound a perfect background noise for sleeping. Mark propped himself against the cool window, his blue eye slowly drooping when the sudden movement of the truck jerked him awake.

McCormick saw a station wagon parked sideways across the road, blocking the truck's way. He couldn't understand why the Judge wasn't slamming the truck into reverse and getting them out of there until he turned around. There was another car behind them, boxing the truck in.

Before Mark could say a word, the front windshield was blown out by gunfire from the station wagon. Mark flung himself out one side, the Judge out the other.

"Hold it right there!" came a shouted order from behind them.

Mark scooted under the truck to Hardcastle's side, the only part of the truck not vulnerable to their attackers. "What do we do now?"

"Make a run for the bushes over there. Ready?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

The two men spurted across the street at the same time, but halfway across Hardcastle stumbled. Mark turned back, seeing one of the men aim at the fallen Judge. Mark dove for the Judge, half-covering him with his body. McCormick saw the rifleman's finger squeeze the trigger, then his body jerked as he was hit in the lower part of his back. Mark gasped, pushing himself upright on shaky arms, trying to reach the truck. He staggered, falling to his knees. He weaved, his vision blurring. Falling forward, he saw Hardcastle get to his feet and start for him before he was shot as well.

"'m sorry. …'s funny, no pain," Mark muttered as he passed out.

"Mr. McCormick, are you awake? Can you hear me?"

Mark opened his eyes, his head pounding with a fierce headache. He groped about with his fingers, trying to find the bullet wound at the base of the spine.

"You're not injured in any way. Those were sleeping darts, just something to put you and Judge Hardcastle under for a while."

Mark looked around the room. There was a camera in the upper corner and a speaker next to it, from which the voice was issuing. The room was sparse, beige walls and a metal, institution-like bed on which Mark was lying. There were straps hanging off the sides of the bed, but McCormick wasn't fastened in any way.

"What's going on? Where's Judge Hardcastle?"

"I need you to do a little job for me, Mr. McCormick. Judge Hardcastle is here to insure your cooperation."

"What's the point? You want me to help you? Talk to me. Leave Hardcastle out of it."

"I'm afraid we can't do that. You see, what I want you to do might be against your basic principles. Would you like to see the Judge?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I would." Mark watched as the door opened across from him and two men carrying large guns walked in. They motioned for him to follow a third man standing in the hallway. Mark felt woozy as he got up and had to lean on the edge of the bed for a moment to recover his balance.

They walked down a long corridor to another unmarked door. Opening the door, the man whom Mark had followed indicated that he should enter alone. When Mark was over the threshold, the door was closed, and McCormick was again alone with just a camera and a speaker. The difference this time was a large window behind a dark brown curtain. A slightly dizzy Mark pulled the curtain back, but it was too dark to see anything.

"Okay, where's the Judge?" Mark asked belligerently, glaring at the speaker.

"Right there, Mr. McCormick," the voice replied as the lights suddenly darkened in his room, revealing a large operating room behind the window.

Mark saw two people in white coats leaning over a prone body sprawled on a gurney. He was startled to see that it was Hardcastle, bare to the waist and covered with long gashes. There was a small pool of blood surrounding the Judge, but Mark could see the faint rise and fall of his chest, the only indication that Hardcastle was still alive.

"You bastard!" Mark yelled, wishing he had something to throw at the camera. Or better yet, to have the person behind this in front of him where he could wrap his fingers around the man's throat. "Tell me what you want. I'll do anything, but leave him alone. He can't do anything."

A chuckle came over the speaker. "So, my informants were right. You do feel something about this old man. Might I ask what?"

"None of your business. You've got me, okay? So call in your marker, what do I have to do to keep you away from him?"

"I want you to kill Roscoe Lee Thompson before he can testify at my trial."

"Lorenzo. I should have known. A little late, isn't it? I mean, he was scheduled for first thing today."

"There were some delays due to motions put forth by my attorney. Thompson won't be appearing until tomorrow. That gives you only half a day to finish him off. Remember, I want him dead before he can say a word."

"What if I can't get at him? I mean, he's in protective custody in a safe house."

"And you know where. Don't try to play dumb with me, McCormick. I'm well aware of you and the Judge's little trip to inspect the place."

"And if I can't kill him?" Mark asked, his eyes on Hardcastle's unconscious body.

"Then say goodbye to the Judge, because this is the last time you'll see him alive."

Mark shuddered. It was ridiculous to weigh the merits of each life. Thompson was a hood who round revenge to be sweet; Hardcastle had spent his life abiding by the law. And Mark McCormick? Following the letter of the law hadn't been one of Mark's virtues, but he didn't really break them, just sorta bent them. Killing another human being wasn't a bent law by any standard and Mark had already had a taste of taking a human life, a taste he hadn't cared for at all. He continued to stare at the Judge. How could he decide? What would the Judge do in the same position? Mark swallowed painfully, knowing the answer to that question.

"Okay. I'll do it, but I want your word, for whatever it's worth, that you won't hurt him anymore. If I find out that the Judge was so much as touched by your goons, I'll come back and kill you. Understand? There won't be a place you'll be able to hide from me."

The camera swiveled to focus on McCormick. "Yes, Mr. McCormick, I understand quite well. I'll keep Judge Hardcastle safe and sound, if you do your job. The Judge will be released upon completion of your mission, none the wiser for what you've done. Considering the seriousness of the crime, I don't think I have to worry about you giving yourself up, now do I? The gentlemen behind you will get you your weapon and assist you in anything you might require. Good luck, Mr. McCormick."

"Yeah, sure." Mark bid a silent farewell to Hardcastle.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

"Judge Hardcastle, welcome back." The voice greeted a drowsy, but unhurt Hardcastle. The Judge recognized the voice immediately.

"Lorenzo. Where am I?'

"In a safe place, don't worry."

"Where's McCormick?"

"Would you like to see him, your honor? He isn't quite as safe as you, but I'm sure he can spare the time."

Like Mark before him, Hardcastle was taken to a room that had a large picture window and brown curtains. He peered through the glass and saw McCormick unconscious on a gurney, apparently having the skin stripped from his body. The Judge stared at the scene without comment, only the muscles in his jaw indicating any reaction at all.

"I need a little favor from you, Judge. You might call it insurance. I want you to kill Thompson."

"Insurance? What kind of insurance? You have a hitman out there already?"

"You might say that. He's not always successful, though. I like to cover all my bets. That's why I have McCormick, to convince you to help me."

"No." Hardcastle closed his eyes, trying to blot out the image of McCormick on that table, his life's blood slowly seeping away.

There was silence from the speaker. Lorenzo didn't seem to expect a negative answer. The door opened and the goons reappeared. "Take the Judge to his room. And you might as well say goodbye to your young friend, Judge. He won't be with us much longer. If you change your mind, just knock on your door. But don't take too long. The human body can only lose so much blood before it reaches the point of no return." Hardcastle hesitated at the door, looking back at McCormick. "You know, Judge, I had heard that you thought of him as a son. That's what I had heard. And yet, you won't lift a finger to save him. I wonder what he'd think if he knew that?"

Hardcastle shook his head. "I won't…I can't commit murder to save him. Especially when you and I know that you'll never let him go."

He was led back to his solitary cell. The image of Mark's lifeless body wouldn't fade. Somehow he had to get out of his room and rescue his young friend before it was too late. Hardcastle eyed the camera, wondering if he was being watched. He moved about the room, waiting for the camera to follow him. When it didn't, the Judge slipped off his shoe, tore his sock off and covered the lens with it. Slipping the shoe back on, he slammed his fist against the door. The guard opened the door carefully, finding Hardcastle in the middle of the room, clutching his chest.

"Heart…" the Judge gasped.

The guard turned to leave, perhaps to get help, maybe ignoring him. Who knew? Hardcastle didn't' intend to wait and find out. He jumped the guard from behind, knocking him unconscious.

Peering up and down the hall, Hardcastle didn't' see any signs of life. He headed back to where the observation room seemed to be, carefully checking for cameras in the hallway. He got to the room and went inside. There was nothing to see through the window, just darkness. Going a few doors down the hall, the Judge found stairs leading to upper levels, but nothing below. Going back, he stepped into the room next to the observation room and discovered a screen up against the wall, a video machine on a table and four video tapes next to it.

Prying the screen up, he saw the observation room window. There was a small TV monitor hooked up to the video machine. The Judge picked up a tape and read the label. "HARDCASTLE" was slipped into the VCR and the Judge began to realize exactly what had happened. He observed himself looking like death warmed over and imagined that this was what McCormick had seen. Curiosity overcame him and the Judge viewed the other tapes.

One was entitled "MCCORMICK", probably the same scene he had seen earlier. The other two were entitled 'MCCORMICK PERSUADED" and "HARDCASTLE REFUSED". The Judge slapped the first tape into the machine, only to see Mark reluctantly agreeing to kill Thompson.

There was a case in the far side of the room. Hardcastle opened it and found theatrical make-up tubes and jars. "So that's how they made us look like that. Aw, kiddo, you really shouldn't believe everything you see."

The Judge kept the tape of Mark's agreement and slipped out of the room. Running down the hall, he searched for an exit. He heard the sound of men talking and stopped short. The voices faded away. The Judge pushed on the door, opening it a crack. He could see two of the guards walking away from him, disappearing around the corner. He carefully opened the door wider, darting for the outer door to freedom. It was time to search for McCormick and find him before he pulled the trigger.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Mark told his escort/guard that he was more than able to do the job without a babysitter and sent the man back to wherever they had the Judge confined. He had been blindfolded until they were downtown, so Mark still didn't have much of a clue as to the Judge's whereabouts, which eliminated his first idea of rescuing him. Mark paced outside the police station after he was alone, torn between telling them what was going on and doing the job as he had promised. Shrugging, he turned and went back to where the rental car waited, thoughtfully provided by Lorenzo.

He drove toward the safe house, wanting to get there before the cops returned with their prize witness. There would be some police at the house itself. Mark wasn't about to attempt a hit there. He needed to pick a spot on the gravel road leading to the place.

Spotting a small family bait shop, Mark pulled over and asked to use their phone. "Hi, Frank? This is Mark. Uhh, we had a little trouble. Lorenzo has snatched the Judge. No, I don't know where he is, if I knew I'd get him out myself! Yeah, I'm sorry. Do you think you know where he might be held? I'm afraid he's been hurt. You do? Please, please go there. I don't care if you have a damn warrant or not, please do it now, Frank! Please? Me? No, I'm…okay. Look, you might want to beef up the security on Thompson, just in case. I can't. I can't tell you anymore. Frank, just…just get the Judge away from Lorenzo, okay? And tell him…well, just tell him that I'm sorry. No, you'll know soon enough what I mean. I wish I could wait." Mark sighed, wondering if Frank had begun a trace on the call. Considering how strange he sounded to himself, he could just imagine how he sounded to Harper. Maybe it was worth the chance? Once more the scene in the observation room came back to haunt Mark. He shook his head. "Frank, I can't talk any longer. Find the Judge for me, please. Find him alive."

Mark hung up the phone He dropped a quarter on the counter for the call, he left the store prepared for the finale. He drove the car into the bushes, covering it with loose branches and palm leaves. He pulled the rifle from its case, trudging to a place halfway to the house. With some effort, and a little help from his pocketknife, Mark managed to pull loose a pile of branches and tugged a fallen tree trunk onto the road, carefully arranging it to look as if it was debris from a storm. It didn't look very convincing to Mark, but he knew the car carrying Thompson would have to slow down. He still hadn't decided what he would do when that moment arrived. If he was lucky, Harper would get suspicious and pick a different safe house to return to after a wasted day in court.

It looked like he would have time to choose the proper place to wait. The ex-con moved through the roadside weeds and brush, looking for a high place. He found an old tree stump leaning against a pine, still securely in the ground. It seemed safe enough to climb and he would be far enough away from the road so that he couldn't be seen. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, the strap cutting into his arm. Bracing himself in place with his back against the live tree, Mark climbed the dead tree slowly and carefully, until he was close to the top. Wedging himself in a crook of the pine tree, Mark began to give in to the exhaustion he was feeling, yet he knew that if he fell asleep, he'd tumble out of his precarious perch.

He huddled in his jacket, circles under his eyes when the sun began to drop below the smog line. His backside felt numb, but so did his heart. If he killed Thompson, his action would save the judge's life, yet he would never be able to see Hardcastle again, not without being arrested for murder. Ironic, and sad. Mark was aware that there were only three options: don't kill Thompson and know that Hardcastle was dead; kill Thompson and go to jail or be on the run for the rest of his life, after making certain that Hardcastle was safe; or kill Thompson and be killed by some cop and never know if Lorenzo had kept his word or if Harper had found the Judge in time.

He positioned the gun on a crook in the tree branch. He looked through the scope, waiting for the telltale headlights to appear. Mark hadn't planned on the sun being almost gone before Thompson and his guards got home. It would make the shot more difficult, but not impossible. The fine points ran through Mark's brain automatically, until the headlights appeared from the main road. The car came to a halt by Mark's barricade. The car engine was shut off, until the only sounds to be heard were that of the crickets and the gentle waves slapping on the beach beyond.

Mark pressed his bloodshot eye against the warm rim of the scope, waiting for Thompson to appear. The passenger door of the car opened, a uniformed police officer appearing. He and the driver began to pull the brush and limbs off the road, toward the ditch that ran alongside the gravel. Thompson stepped out to see what was going on. Mark held his breath as he began to squeeze the trigger. Just as he reached the point of no-return, McCormick pulled the rifle up, crying out. The shot raced harmlessly into the air, Mark slipping down the tree, moaning.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. I can't do it, Judge. I'm so sorry." Mark felt a weight fall on his shoulders, knowing what would happen when Lorenzo discovered he had been betrayed. The stricken man heard the sound of returning gunfire, never trying to duck. He simply sat with his back against the tree limb in anguish. The slamming of car doors and a roar of engine with a spray of gravel told him that the cops had taken their witness away to some place safer. "What do I do now?"

"Now you die."

Mark's head jerked up. He had been followed. It was the guard from Lorenzo's estate. "I don't suppose you'd like to make some sort of deal, would you?"

"Afraid not. Lorenzo was afraid you'd chicken out. So he had me follow you. As soon as I knew where the safe house was, I planted bombs, enough to level that section of shore line."

"Gee, I hate to shoot and run like this, but…" Mark used the rifle butt to slam out at the other man, catching him in the chest and knocking him down. Mark started running to the safe house to warn the police of the bombs.

The guard ran after him, tackling him with a below the knees shot just as they reached the road. Mark looked at the man who was at least fifty pounds heavier and a foot taller and wondered if he'd have a chance, took a deep breath and swung at him.

"Come one, you heard about the shooting!" Hardcastle urged Lieutenant Frank Harper to hurry, his hands clutching the dashboard.

They took the corner onto the gravel road at twice the safe speed, fishtailing for a moment, then Frank coaxed the vehicle back onto the road. They passed the barricade, the headlights bouncing off a surrealistic fight scene. Harper drove past before the sight could register, then slammed on the brakes, making a slightly messy u-turn on the one lane road, swiping at the bushes and almost slipping into the ditch before bringing the car to a halt. Hardcastle and Harper jumped out of the vehicle as the bigger man pummeled a dazed McCormick, holding up with one hand while the other repeatedly punched him.

"Freeze! Police!" Harper shouted, his service revolver trained on the two men.

Hardcastle moved closer, out of the line of fire, and pried McCormick loose from the man's grip. Mark's eyes were closed, his mouth bruised and bleeding slightly.

"Hey, you okay? Kid?" Hardcastle laid Mark's body onto the ground, keeping his arm under McCormick's head. "You couldn't do it, could you? I knew you were worth it."

"Ohhh, my face hurts," Mark moaned, his eyes opening slowly to focus on the Judge. "Hardcastle? You shouldn't be running around in your condition."

"Condition? What condition?" Hardcastle glared at the man Harper was handcuffing.

Mark sat up, grabbing the Judge by the shoulders. "Jesus, I saw you on that table."

"It was a trick."

Mark shook his head. "I saw the blood, the marks on your back. You were unconscious!"

"Like the movies, hotshot, it was a hoax. Done with makeup and taped when we were first taken in there, still out from the tranquilizer darts. I'm no more injured than you were on the tape I saw."

Mark climbed slowly to his feet, assisted by Hardcastle. He moved to the police car where Harper had Lorenzo's hired man stuffed into the back seat of the police car. "I don't understand."

"Lorenzo made tapes of us while we were still unconscious, done up like those horror films you love so much, then showed them to us. I saw a tape of you in the same life-threatening situation."

"They set us up. Ohmigod, there are bombs at the house. Frank!"

"Got it, Mark." Harper slid into the front seat of the car, keying his police radio. "Dispatch, raise Sergeant Cavettini on Tach 2, emergency."

Mark slumped against the hood of the car, brushing himself off with half-hearted swipes of his hands. "You didn't agree to his terms, did you?"

This was no off-hand question. Hardcastle realized his answer was very important to his young friend. "I couldn't, kid. I'm sorry, but I couldn't kill a man in cold blood anymore than you could. I did try to find you in that place, that's when I discovered it was a trick."

Mark sighed, walking away from Hardcastle and the safety of the car, Harper's voice fading into the background. The Judge went after him, staying within touching distance, but not pushing.

At the edge of the gravel where the road became payment, Mark turned. "I did agree, and I meant it. I don't know why I couldn't pull the trigger. It was your life or his and I chose his."

"You made the right decision. Don't ever worry about that. Lorenzo made a mistake thinking that you would be like him, eager and willing to kill."

"That doesn't change the fact that, until the moment I pulled the trigger, I wasn't sure what I planned to do. I could've easily killed him, Judge."

"No, not really. Your call to Frank got him worried and he had Thompson moved elsewhere. That was a police officer who resembled Thompson and he was wearing a bulletproof vest. You were in no danger of killing anyone, kiddo."

"So, am I under arrest?" Mark asked, watching as a bomb squad truck tore past them on the way to the house.

"You didn't' do anything illegal. Stupid, maybe, but not illegal." Hardcastle laid an arm on Mark's shoulder. "Ready to get Lorenzo?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm more than ready," Mark replied, his face stormy.

Frank Harper, Judge Hardcastle and Mark McCormick watched as the uniforms swarmed Lorenzo's estate. They had come up with most of his men, but no one had, as yet, found the head honcho.

"No sign of him. Damn, I hope he hasn't gotten away." Harper's fingers beat a rapid staccato on the dashboard of his car.

"No, I think they've found him." Hardcastle pointed to two cops coming out the front door with a handcuffed man between them.

Mark stalked over to the crime leader, his face filled with anger. Stopping a scant three inches away from Lorenzo, Mark waited for the man to say something. It appeared to be a futile wait, as Lorenzo merely smiled without a word passing his lips.

"I should've killed you," Mark muttered, his jaw clenched tight.

"You've forgotten what you are, McCormick. You've become weak, like him." Lorenzo motioned with his head at Hardcastle who was standing back at the patrol car, watching.

Mark looked back, saw the quizzical look on the Judge's face and shrugged. "I know a lot of weak guys, the type you're talking about and others. But I know one thing, and that's Hardcastle isn't weak. Not by a long shot. Sometimes he's not fair, and he's even overbearing and rude, but not weak. He was willing to take a chance on me dying. Now, we'd never talk about it, but I know he cares and that it hurt him to make that decision. We lucked out, the two of us, 'cause you got too fancy for your own good and neither of us was really worked over." Mark's voice got lower and somewhat menacing as he leaned in closer to Lorenzo. "But let me tell you something you had best remember. If that man had been killed by you, I wouldn't have had a minute's hesitation in going after you. Believe it. And I wouldn't have bothered with the law, if you know what I mean."

Mark motioned to the cops to take Lorenzo away. He watched the man being pushed into the back of a squad car. Then McCormick, with a weary sigh, wandered over to where Hardcastle and Harper waited.

"Can we go home, please?" Mark asked, suddenly aware of his aching body.

"Finished lecturing Lorenzo?" Hardcastle held his hand out for the truck keys from Mark. "I'll get the GMC. Where'd you hide it?"

After Mark gave him detailed directions and the Judge left, he turned to face Harper. "Frank, will these charges stick?"

"Between Thompson's testimony and your charges of attempted murder, two counts of kidnapping and the various little incidentals, I'm sure we've got him this time. Actually, we'll probably save the charges from this incident for the day he gets out on parole, if ever. Thompson is spilling his guts. The attempt to kill him only made him madder. He'll be very convincing on the stand tomorrow morning."

"They found the bombs at the safe house? No other hitmen running about?" Mark asked, making sure that they had seen the last of both Lorenzo and Thompson.

"Yep. Go home, Mark, kick your shoes off. No more special effects." Harper reached out and ruffled Mark's hair. "You did good, Mark. The Judge should be proud of you."

With a wry glance at Hardcastle, Mark laughed. "If he was, he'd never admit it. But this time, he'd be right. I almost blew this one. I don't suppose you found the tape yet, have you? The one where I agree to kill a man?"

"No, but Lorenzo doesn't have it. That's why my men caught him without any trouble. Seems he was planning on using that tape for leverage with Hardcastle."

"You'd think he would've learned that the Judge doesn't make deals," Mark commented, as Hardcastle drove up in the truck. "So who does have it?"

"Might ask Milt, he snooped around the place long enough. Maybe he found it."

"It's a thought."


	7. Chapter 7

7.

Hardcastle was watching an old episode of DRAGNET when Mark came into the den. McCormick silently watched the denouncement with the Judge, then handed him a bowl of popcorn.

"Is it time for THE ANGEL AND THE BADMAN yet?" Mark asked, slumping in the other seat in front of the television, searching for the TV Guide.

"In about 30 minutes. We get any mail?"

"Some magazines for me, some bills for you." Mark thumbed through the latest issue of Playboy, checking out the centerfold, then tossed it to the floor with his Sports Monthly magazine. "Hey, what did you do with the other cassette tape?"

"What tape?" Hardcastle asked, his attention on the television screen, or so it appeared.

"The one where I agreed to kill Thompson. Frank said they couldn't find it."

"Maybe Lorenzo didn't make one." Hardcastle munched on the popcorn. "There isn't enough salt on this."

"Too much salt is bad for you. Judge, don't change the subject. That tape could get me into a lot of trouble, even if I didn't follow through with it. If you don't have it, I need to know."

"Don't worry, it's in a safe place."

"Oh, yeah? Where's that?" Mark leaned forward, trying to see Hardcastle's face.

The Judge relented. "In the garbage, kiddo. I knew you wouldn't do it. I figured the tape would only confuse the issue."

McCormick chortled. "You destroyed evidence! I don't believe it, you actually destroyed evidence."

"Don't get too excited, kiddo. You're blowing this out of proportion."

"No way, this is better than when you broke into that safe in Atlantic City to ransom me. You actually destroyed evidence to save me." Mark's delighted grin was filled with warmth. "Thanks, Judge. I mean, this is really special."

"Calm down, McCormick, it wasn't that big a deal. You didn't actually do anything."

"Ohhh, I see. You mean, if I had shot Thompson, you would've suddenly 'discovered' the tape and turned it over to the cops, huh?" Mark pressed the issue, taking a peculiar delight in bugging the Judge on what he might have done if Mark had gone ahead with the assassination.

"Well, I knew you wouldn't pull the trigger."

"That's not what I asked, Judge. You'd've turned the tape over to Frank, right?"

"This is a stupid conversation, McCormick. My movie is coming on and I don't want to discuss it! That's the end of it, okay?" Hardcastle stormed, flicking the channel to cable on the remote.

With an affectionate smile, Mark grabbed the popcorn bowl, doused it with salt and sat back to watch John Wayne be converted to Quakerism.


End file.
